Ruins of the Noblest Man
by CaesarAntony
Summary: A little Antony/Caesar smut. Before and after Caesar's murder.


**A/N: I don't own anything italicized because sadly I am not William Shakespeare.**

* * *

It was only a few nights before that he was nuzzled against Caesar's collarbone, his breathing jagged as their hands hovered over each other. Chills rose on Caesar's arms as Antony warm breath blew across his neck. Antony was cautiously moving upwards towards Caesar's face, kissing his chin lightly.

Caesar came back with hungry kisses to Antony's lips before moving to his ear. "My lord," Antony gasped. Their bodies were together now, Antony gripping Caesar's shoulders as he surrendered to Caesar's affection.

"Come with me tonight," Caesar whispered. "Share my bed."

"But your wife," Antony said, his voice hushed.

"What about my wife? You're my everything."

Antony gave a shy smile before letting go of Caesar, backing away. "Are you certain no one will intrude?"

Caesar grabbed Antony's arm harshly, crushing his lips on Antony's. Antony felt faint on the inside as Caesar violently kissed him, feeling nervous and excited on the inside. Their hands touched each other all over, feeling what the other to capture every part of themselves. Antony's head was rushing with so many thoughts he didn't realize when he was staring up at Caesar who was staring back at him with a wild, passionate look in his eyes as they lay on a bed.

Feeling Caesar was enough to make him exhausted, but to have Caesar feel back pushed him to the fullest extent. There were moans and cries, each calling out for the other, as if they couldn't live without their lover. Then they were on their sides, staring at each other, sweat beading on their foreheads. Antony reached out and brushed some of the sweat away from Caesar's brow, leaving his hand to linger on his skin. Caesar reached up his hand to grab Antony's kissing the top of it gently.

Sleep overtook them soon.

* * *

But that was then and this was now.

The bloody remains of Caesar rested in front of him, gaping wounds crying out. Antony longed to reach down and kiss Caesar one last time and feel the warmth of Caesar's hands grasp his, but the extraordinary life of Julius Caesar had come to an end.

He had asked Brutus to kill him there. He wanted nothing more to be as lifeless as his lover was; to look at him one last time before he disappeared from Rome and escaped the clutches of cruel fate. Caesar was a god, just like the people had thought he was; Caesar had touched Antony in too many ways to count.

Ever since the beginning he had supported Caesar, but they had parted two years ago. How different that seemed from now. Caesar had loved him back. They could've gone together through the rest of their lives, with late night meetings, backs arched and gasping as they continued on with their intimacy.

How he wanted to end his life now.

But Brutus wouldn't do it. Brutus wouldn't stab him just like he had stabbed Caesar. Caesar was Brutus's friend; if he could do that to Caesar, why would he not do the same for Antony?

Nonetheless he shook hands with them. He was so angry, so shocked, and he shook hands, plans concocting in his head to get these conspirators behind violence so senseless and left his heart aching.

_"O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,_

_ That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!_

_ Thou are the ruins of the noblest man_

_ That ever lived in the tide of times._

_ Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!_

_ Over thy wounds now do I prophesy—_

_ Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips_

_ To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue—_

_ A curse shall light upon the limbs of man._

_ Domestic fury and fierce civil strife_

_ Shall cumber all the parts of Italy._

_ Blood and dreadful objects so familiar,_

_ That mothers shall but smile when they behold_

_ Their infants quartered with the hands of war,_

_ All pity choked with custom of fell deeds._

_ And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,_

_ With Ate by his side come hot from hell,_

_ Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice_

_ Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war,_

_ That this foul deed shall smell above the earth_

_ With carrion men, groaning for burial."_

Antony never cried, but today was different.


End file.
